


make the same mistake (blame the circumstance)

by soapyconnor



Series: the kids aren't all right [2]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: High School AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of a Car Accident, Nix has Self-Esteem issues, modern day AU, ummm idk what else to tag rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24203749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: The blood hadn’t yet dried beneath his nose when the phone rang for the first time.
Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters, mentions of Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, mentions of George Luz/Joseph Toye
Series: the kids aren't all right [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904674
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	make the same mistake (blame the circumstance)

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is bad. i havent written anything ive considered good in a long time, but this idea has been bugging me for a while. sorry it isnt longer either:/  
> if you want too, follow me on tumblr: @lieutenantwinters

The blood hadn’t yet dried beneath his nose when the phone rang for the first time.

Swiping the back of his hand across his nose, he glanced momentarily at his cell phone, before he silenced the call and turned his gaze back onto the wall. It hurt for him to breathe, the joints in his fingers aching as he curled them around a cigarette. Slight tremors wracked through his hands as he attempted to light the smoke, and once it caught, he flung the lighter across the room, taking a sharp inhale.

He glanced down at his phone again as it vibrated against his foot. It was Dick again, calling him for whatever fucking reason. Lewis licked his lips, and corner of his mouth twitching at the taste of copper. Once more, he put it on silent.

He could hear his father stalking around downstairs, the deep voice talking to someone—who was he kidding himself, after moments like this he always talked to mother—who he couldn’t hear reply, even though there were plenty of pauses.

There was a scrap as something was swept across the floor, and Lewis sucked on the cigarette so hard it ran to the nub. He flicked it out his slightly cracked window, holding the smoke in before he blew it out his nose.

Blood dripped onto his bed sheets, and Lewis snorted, before just picking up a clump of sheets and burying his nose into it. At that moment, his phone vibrated again. Glaring at his phone, Lewis just held the blankets to his nose as he attempted to read the message from Dick.

_I’m just going to catch a ride home with Guarnere, Toye, and Carwood. Goodnight. I hope you’re okay_.

Lewis threw the phone across his room, digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek as he heard it crack against the wall. He pulled the sheets away from his face, and saw the blood had stemmed a bit. He kicked the sheets off of his bed, and flopped back onto the cold mattress. His head was pounding, it hurt to breathe, his fingers hurt when he bent them. He was nearly positive that he was going to have a blackeye tomorrow, and his entire nose would be swollen.

Dread, guilt, and humiliation swept through him rapidly, often replacing each other before he could process the thought, sometimes mixing into one unbearable wave. Lewis scratched at his forehead, and thought of the missed calls and text from Dick. Tomorrow he’d show up to school looking like he was a piece of trash, someone who thought they were hot shit and picked the wrong fight with someone. Dick would be embarrassed, humiliated by the look of him. Shit, maybe this would be the end of them. Maybe Dick would have enough—maybe he’d finally get tired of the look’s teachers gave them, the hushed conversations people had behind their backs—why would such a nice boy like Dick date such a _delinquent_ like him—

Lewis gasped and sat up, his trembling hands tearing at the skin above his chest. His heart was pounding hard, he could feel the veins throbbing in his head. Quickly, he began to tear through his bedside table, and found his painkillers. They were bitter and tasted like battery acid as he swallowed them, taking a little more than necessary. He clenched his hands into the bed, ignoring the ache in his fingers, as he waited for the painkillers to take over, and lull him to sleep.

A slap to the face was Lewis’ wake up call the next morning.

He jerked on the bed, eyes going wide and immediately drawing his hands up to his face to protect himself. His hands still ached, and he felt like his face had been turned to mush. A shadow hung over him, and the figure grabbed his wrists, prying them from his face. One of his eyes was slightly swollen, and it stung as he tried to pry it open.

Lewis scowled at the figure, and quickly attempted to shove the man off. “How the hell did you get in here?” He bucked his hips, but the man did nothing except plop himself down on Lewis’ lap and keep him rooted in place.

“Your window was open,” Ron replied, blandly, watching Lewis as he flopped back onto the bed. “Have you missed my calls?”

Eyebrows furrowing, Lewis stopped struggling and stared up at him. “What’s it matter to you?” Ron scowled down at him, before he rolled off of him and began to tear through Lewis’ closet, throwing a shirt at him before heading to his dresser and digging through his jeans. “Ron, I’m really not in the fucking mood—ow!” He let out a howl as the metal of one of his belts struck him in his bruised eye, and he missed what Ron said.

A pair of jeans landed on his head, and he jerked them off of his head, ready to chastise Ron when he finally saw how _pale_ the man was. His skin glistened in the early morning light as sweat dried along his forehead, and he looked like he hadn’t slept at all the previous night. “What?”

“Did you not hear what I fucking said?” Ron snarled, throwing Lewis’ stick of deodorant at him. “Get _dressed_. I’ve got no time for you.”

Scowling, Lewis began to dress, forcing the shirt over his head. “What the hell has crawled up your ass?”

Ron looked like he was going to throttle Lewis. He picked the man’s phone up off of the floor, and threw it at him. “Read those texts and hurry up. I’ve got to pick up some stuff from George’s house.”

Okay, that caused Lewis to pause. They were picking up _stuff_ from George’s house, not George himself. Ron was panicked and anxious, despite the mask he put it behind, so something was terribly wrong.

Lewis thought back to the previous night, how Dick had attempted to call him for a ride home, how he was going to catch a ride home with Lip, Toye, and Guarnere—

He was very lucky that he got no vomit on himself. Ignoring his mother’s confused questions as he and Ron headed down the staircase, Lewis read through the texts he had gotten from Ron, from George, hell even from _Babe_ , and Lewis was pretty sure he didn’t even have the kid’s number. There were voicemails, mostly from George, but some were from Babe.

As he sat in the passenger’s seat of Ron’s beat up car, he listened to the messages. To George sobbing into the phone, begging him to show up, that he couldn’t handle this on his own. Babe went from distraught, to angry, to resigned, to angry again in his voicemails. No one mentioned how Dick was.

Lewis didn’t ask. He felt sick, and his entire body was in bed. It hurt to breathe for more reason than one, and he found himself with his head between his knees, trying to keep himself calm. He heard Babe mention something about _amputation_ in one of his angry rants, and Lewis prayed that Dick wasn’t the one. Leave the amputation to Guarnere or Toye—shit, they would be able to handle what happened to them better than what Dick would.

( _Although, as he thought about it, Dick would **prefer** it be him, the self-sacrificing asshole that he was_.)

Ron didn’t speak to him, just muttered a, “You better not throw up in my car,” every time Lewis dry-heaved. Lewis flexed his fingers, digging them into his hair as he tried to keep himself from vomiting. He didn’t know if he’d be able to forgive himself if something happened to Dick and he could have prevented it.

Briefly, they stopped for gas and he vaguely remembers Ron handing him a Sprite. Lewis tried not to gulp it down, not wanting to piss Ron off in his one moment of kindness, and he pressed the bottle to his forehead, his leg bouncing as he waited for the pump to stop.

He went through everything he could say, anything that could make things better, but he knew nothing would. If he had just picked up his phone instead of wallowing in his own pity—

Lewis bit into his tongue, and clenched his fists, ignoring the ache that shot through them. Instead, he followed Ron into the hospital, and past the nurses who gave them pitying looks. They were lucky Toye’s mother worked at the hospital, otherwise they would have to wait another hour before being allowed in. They took the stairs two at a time, before finally heading through a door.

Lewis immediately spot George and Babe huddled together, and Guarnere’s mother a few feet away pacing a groove into the linoleum. Lewis panicked when he didn’t see Dick’s parents. Where were they? They should be here.

His heart dropped into his stomach as an intrusive thought hit him: _they’re inside saying goodbye._

Itching at his throat so hard he heard the joints in his fingers pop, Lewis tried not think of the worst as he and Ron approached their classmates.

“Hey, George,” Ron started, quietly, “I brought you the stuff you asked for.” George looked up, and if Ron had looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night alone, then George looked like he hadn’t slept in a _week._ His hair stood up in different directions, his cheeks were tear stained, and his eyes were red. He looked like he was going to pass out at any moment, but was being kept awake by the shitty hospital coffee.

“Thanks,” George murmured, taking the bag from Ron. He sniffed, and began to rummage through the items, as Ron disappeared into a nearby room. Briefly, Lewis caught sight of Mrs. Lipton in the room, and was relieved to know Lip wasn’t alone.

He turned his gaze towards Babe and George, his heart thumping loudly. He swallowed thickly. “Dick—is he—”

“Well, hello to you too,” Babe said with a snort. Lewis clamped his jaw shut. Babe, despite being a freshman, had fit in with their group of juniors and seniors. He had no issue sassing any of them, or throwing down either. “Don’t worry, Bill and Joe are doing just fine, they’re just getting their legs chopped off. But thanks for the concern.”

“Babe,” George chastised, his voice scratchy. He turned his tired, bloodshot eyes on Lewis. “Dick is okay. He has a concussion and suffered some whiplash.” He nodded weakly towards the room to the right of Lip’s. George pulled the stuffed penguin that Joe had gotten him at the Philly Zoo from his bag, and hugged it to his gut. “He’s in there . . .”

Lewis ran his teeth over his bottom lip and he nodded, suddenly feeling fearful. Were his parents in there? Were they going to blame him for not picking up their son? For not _being there for him_?

Seeing the disappointment in Richard’s eyes, or the sadness in Edith’s would absolutely destroy him. They were more like his parents than Stanhope or Doris would ever be, and yet—he fucking—

His breath came out in wheezing huffs, and he was trying to steel himself when Babe spoke up, “. . . Dick’s parents don’t know yet. Hospital’s records are old, apparently.” Babe met his gaze. “You should call them.”

Lewis’ chest hurt. “Right.” Oh, God, how would he explain that to them? That should be something they should hear from a doctor, not from—

George held out a bucket that smelled of vomit bleach. Lewis took it without another word and hurled into it, his shoulders shaking. Fuck, this was all just . . . _fucked_. He gagged, and kept his head in the bucket, sliding down onto the floor inbetween Babe and George’s chairs. He could feel Babe’s eyes on him, and Lewis shuddered as George placed a hand on his shoulder. They listened to him hack and vomit into the bucket for a good five minutes, before Babe let out a sigh. “Give me your phone and I’ll have Mama Toye call them.”

Without a word, he unlocked his phone and handed it over. He sat with the bucket between his legs as Babe headed towards the nurse’s station, scrolling through Lewis’ contacts as he did so.

“I’m sorry,” Lewis finally managed to say, lowering the bucket and resting his head against the wood armrest.

George glanced at him; his face mushed into his stuffed animal. “What were you gonna do? Prevent the car from hittin’ em?”

Lewis tore at the dry skin along his lips, and scrunched his eyes shut. It was very true—there was nothing Lewis could have done that would have prevented them from getting hit. Toye and Guarnere always rode together, and Lip rode with whoever would give him a ride. But Dick . . . “Dick shouldn’t’ve been there.” The position he was holding made his ribs hurt, so he straightened himself up and tried to take deep, even breaths. “And—if I had been there, they wouldn’t have been going out of their way to take him home—”

“They barely made it fifty feet from the school,” George said, squeezing Lewis’ shoulder. “And Dick wouldn’t have wanted you to come and get him, not when . . .”

Lewis placed a hand over George’s and squeezed, despite the ache in his joints. Few people knew what Lewis went through at home, and even fewer were allowed to even talk to him about it. Hell, if this accident hadn’t happened, most of this same group would have been here at the hospital for _him_ , anyways. To make sure that he was okay, to get him the care he needed—

“Fuck,” Lewis pressed the heels of his hands into his sockets, ignoring the pain shooting through his blackeye. “How am I going to go in there and look at him? Go in there and pretend that _I_ didn’t ignore his calls, that I was asleep or getting the shit beat out of me, when I was just sitting there, fucking _smoking_ —”

George’s hand crept up to grasp at the back of his neck, and Lewis broke down, crying quietly as George gently kneaded at the back of his throat. Lewis leaned against his knee, and knew he should be the one comforting George instead. Hell, _George_ was the one who had been up all night, waiting for news and trying to get ahold of _him_ —

Eventually, his sobs subsided, and he sat there, resting against George’s knee. George patted his shoulder, and said, “You know Dick loves you, and he knows that there was nothing you could have done. Hell, the two of you could have been in that accident instead.” Lewis bit the inside of his cheek, and looked towards the door. Would Dick _really_ feel that way? He wouldn’t blame Dick if he hated Lewis, if he felt betrayed and angry at the fact that he hadn’t answered his call.

Once more, George nudged him with his knee. “Go in there. Be with him.”

Lewis sniffed. “Is he awake?”

“I don’t know. A nurse went in there a bit ago and didn’t mention anything,” George replied with a shrug. “I’m sure he’d love it if you were the face he woke up to.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Lewis murmured. “If he hates me?”

He didn’t need to look at his friend to know that he got an eyeroll in return. George nudged Lewis with a little more force. A sigh escaped him, and he forced himself to his feet. George gave him a wobbly smile, before he buried his face into the stuffed animal. Lewis wiped his hands against his jeans, before he slowly headed towards the room.

He flexed his fingers, and sucked the pooling blood off of his bottom lip, before he headed in. George had said that he wasn’t that injured, that it was minor, but Lewis had no idea how old that information was. What if he had gotten worse? What if he needed more care than George realized?

Taking a deep breath, Lewis rounded the corner of the small hallway leading from the door, and stopped at the foot of Dick’s bed.

His usual neatly combed hair was askew, his pale skin was peppered with red marks. A brace was around his neck, and he had some road rash peaking out from beneath the hospital gown.

Lewis’ stomach flipped, and he forced himself to sit down on the edge of the bed. He took Dick’s hand, and gripped it tightly, before he feared he was going to hurt him and loosened his hold. If he had road rash, then had he . . .

Lewis shook his head. Dick was going to be all right. The road rash didn’t seem to be all that bad, so perhaps he had been—

A shiver ran up his back and he hiked his shoulders up to his ears. The image that had flashed behind his eyelids was horrifying, and he swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat. It was of no use to think like that, to think of what Dick had possibly gone through.

He looked down at their intertwined fingers, how there was bruises mottling the skin along both of their knuckles. He hadn’t been there for Dick, and looked how that ended up? At the very least, he needed to be here for him _now_. Put aside whatever emotions he was having, because Dick needed him more.

The room was too quiet for his liking. Sure, Dick was quiet by nature, but this was different. Dick would hum to himself, or would be just . . . doing something instead of sitting there. There would be the sound of pages brushing together, the click of a pen, _something_ to fill the spaces inbetween.

Rubbing his thumb across the back of Dick’s hand, Lewis sniffed and pursed his lips. His hand was colder than normal, and if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Lewis would be scared that he had passed away in between the time the nurse had checked on him and now.

Movement on the bed caught his eye, and his gaze jerked up to Dick’s face to see exhausted blue eyes looking back at him, his lips pulling back into a small smile despite the cut on the corner of his mouth. They stared at each other for a moment, before Dick said, “Dang, I got caught.”

Something about that caused Lewis to choke out a laugh and launch himself at Dick, mindful of the neck brace and anything else that could be hiding beneath the raggedy blanket. He flinched when Dick let out a small sound of pain, and he went to hurriedly backtrack, when Dick’s hands fisted in his shirt and yanked him to his chest.

Lewis dug his fingernails into Dick’s matted hair, inhaling sharply against his throat. “Oh, God, Dick, I’m so—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” Dick said, ignoring the slight burn of Lewis’ nails against his skull. It felt good in a way—a reminder that he was alive.

Lewis choked as he inhaled, and they held each other as he lost all his will to fight and prove to Dick that he deserved better. He couldn’t bring himself to say any of the words bouncing around his head, because he was just so damn grateful for him to be alive.

After a moment of holding each other, and Lewis reassuring himself that Dick was alive and going to be okay, Dick muttered into his hair, “How are the others?” It came out as a croak, and if it wasn’t for their heads pressed together, Lewis wasn’t sure he would have heard it.

“They’re okay,” Lewis continued to run his fingers through Dick’s hair absentmindedly. “Bill and Joe . . . they’re . . . well, one of their legs are getting amputated, but from the sounds of it, they’ll be okay.”

“Carwood?”

“He’s okay too. From the sounds of it, he took the least damage.” Lewis sat back on his folded legs, but didn’t let go of his hands. Upon sitting back, Dick managed to get a full look at Lewis’ injuries from the night before, and his face dropped. Quickly, Lewis bit out, “Do you remember anything from the accident?”

Dick blinked, and then shook his head. “Not much. But, Lewis, what—”

Blessedly, that’s when Dick’s parents showed up. Immediately, Lewis backed up to allow Edith to take his place. He shrunk back into the shadows as Richard passed him, followed by Ann. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he hung by the door and hiked his shoulders up to his ears as he watched Edith repeatedly kiss Dick’s face.

He thought of his mother, and how when she had found him in the hospital, she had just looked at him with disgust, sighing when the doctors told her what they recommended. He had felt like vermin beneath her feet at that moment.

Chewing on the dry skin along his nails, Lewis listened as Edith fretted over Dick, and Richard asked questions about what had happened. Ann sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes wide and stunned. He tucked his arm along his chest, his elbow resting on his curled fist. He felt like he should leave, that at any moment either Edith or Richard would turn to him and throw him out.

A fist wrapped around his gut and _yanked_ at the thought of them requesting him to never see their son again. He didn’t really know what he’d do at that point. Home was unsufferable, and he was sure he would die without the social interactions Dick gave him. He may be friendly to all of Dick’s friends, but he truly had none of his own.

“Mom, I’m fine, really,” Dick said, calmly.

Lewis looked up to see Edith continuing to hold Dick, a hand in his hair. She looked truly anguished, like she, too, couldn’t quite grasp that Dick was okay. He clenched his fists, sucking at the blood pooling along his lip every time he ripped off of a chunk of dried skin.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Edith turned her gaze on him, and her eyes went wide. “Lewis? Were you in the car accident too?”

Suddenly, he had everyone’s eyes on him, and he felt like he was going to throw up again. He inhaled sharply, pain shooting through his ribs, and before Dick could cover for him, he said, “No, ma’am. I wasn’t.”

He hated the understanding look he got in return. He didn’t deserve her sympathy, not when he was part of the reason why Dick had ended up in the hospital. Lewis bowed his head, and quickly retreated from the hospital room, ignoring Dick calling his name.

When he entered the hallway, he found himself alone aside from the nurses. Mama Guarnere and Toye were gone as well, and he wondered if they had gotten out of surgery.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and a brief glance at the screen had him immediately turning it off.

Shit, he really needed a cigarette.

Richard found him in the hospital cafeteria.

It had been a couple of hours since he had left Dick’s hospital room. At first, he had headed out to the courtyard, hoping to find a place to peacefully smoke, but it felt . . . wrong. It brought him back to the night before, caused horrible images of Dick and his friends being flung across black pavement.

He had ignored any and all calls from Richard or Edith, and _especially_ his mother. He didn’t care if he was missing school and that it didn’t look good, he would rather be sitting in the cafeteria with his head pressed against the cold table than at school.

He didn’t mean to blow Richard and Edith off—he was sure that they cared, but he couldn’t listen to them tell him that he was no longer allowed to see Dick in that manner. They had already been kind and supportive enough—this had to be the final straw, didn’t it?

The chair squeaked against the linoleum as Richard sat down next to Lewis. Lewis raised his head, placing his chin against the table, everything from his nose down was blocked by his folded arms. Richard placed down two cups of coffee, and motioned to Lewis’ hours old mug. “I figured you could use a new one.”

Lewis didn’t say anything, just turned his gaze from Richard, his shoulders tensing up. He took the cup, hands tightening so hard around the Styrofoam that it creaked. His knuckles had turned purple and blue at this point; he was sure he was going to struggle with basic tasks for the next couple of days.

Richard glanced at him as he took a sip of his own coffee. “Toye and Guarnere are going to be okay. Apparently, they’re already awake and griping about their legs.”

Lewis traced his nail across the cup, and shifted in his seat. A man and what seemed to be his parents entered the cafeteria, and seemed to be there for happy reasons. Lewis overheard their conversation, and chewed on the inside of the cheek once he realized the man had just become a father.

Funny how hospitals worked like that.

Richard continued to look at him, and took a sip at his coffee. It was weird, how Dick got those looks from his father. The studying, scrutinizing looks. At the receiving ends of their looks, he felt exposed, like every nerve in his body was being taken apart bit by bit.

“So,” Richard said, after giving Lewis a few minutes to himself, “What happened last night?”

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Lewis was sure that Dick had already told the story to his parents, would have to tell the story again if police were involved, and he probably told the story so easily that it didn’t bother him. Here, Lewis could barely think about it without sending himself into a tizzy.

Lewis’ fingernails dug into the Styrofoam, and he chugged some of his coffee. Richard’s gaze felt almost suffocating, which he knew the man had long-practiced to get the truth out of his children. Funny how it seemed to work on Lewis, when lying to his own parents was the first life skill they had unknowingly taught him.

“Whatever you say will stay between us,” Richard took a glance at his watch, before he looked back to Lewis. “Dick and Edith don’t have to know a single thing we talked about, unless you want them too.”

Lewis flinched at that. He couldn’t imagine saying any of this to Edith, or even Dick. It was already hard talking to Dick about the things Stanhope did to him, and how Doris treated him, he couldn’t imagine spilling his soul on why he felt so bad about what happened.

Finally, Lewis took a large swig of his coffee, and ignored the fact it burned his throat. His ribs hurt from being bent in such an awkward position for so long, and when he had looked at them earlier, black and blue mottling had begun to spread along the spaces inbetween the bones. “Is this conversation gonna end with you telling me you don’t want Dick to see me anymore?” Lewis asked, adding a laugh to the end to hide how nervous he was. Shit, Mr. Winters wasn’t someone that you fucked around with. If he told Lewis that he didn’t want Dick around him anymore, Lewis didn’t have a choice.

Instead of a sharp ‘yes’—which he certainly expected—Richard just raised an eyebrow at him. He took a moment to mule over the question, before he replied, “Well . . . It depends on what you have to say. Have you done anything illegal?”

Richard knew about his penchant for smoking, and he would be a fool to think that Lewis or any of Dick’s friends didn’t drink. There’s been plenty of times where Richard has found Dick trying to scrape what remained of Lewis’ pride off of the sidewalk in front of the Nixon homestead after one of the numerous times he had been locked out. It was something he knew about, but didn’t try to change. As long as he didn’t see the act happening, he didn’t care.

Drugs, on the other hand . . .

“Never, sir.” It took him a little longer to respond than he should have, but Richard just nodded and took his word for it.

“Then no, son, I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Despite the sincerity in his words, Lewis couldn’t bring himself to believe Richard. He could hear Lewis’ story, and decide to change his mind.

Lewis rubbed at the back of his neck, every muscle in his body was wound tight. He sucked on his bottom lip, and didn’t meet Richard’s expectant look. It took him a moment to steel himself, and speak. “I was supposed to pick Dick up from track practice. My dad had some of his . . . ‘buddies’ over.” Lewis closed his eyes and felt bile rise up in his throat as the images of last night came back to him. The laughter of his father and his friends, the mocking look in all of their eyes as they pretended to be interested in him and his life.

“I really—well, I _know_ what happened, but I don’t _remember_ what happened after they made the comments about Dick,” Lewis murmured, leaning back in his seat as he looked down at his hands. His dad had dragged him into the back, had snarled at him and called him all sorts of names before he began to pummel into him. People said that being drunk made people sloppy, that it should have been easy to fight off his intoxicated father. But it just made him loose control—punch him with all his might, and it enraged him even more when Lewis fought back. Lewis scratched at his throat, and shifted on the chair, folding his arms on the table again. “Dick tried calling me. I—” He scrunched his eyes closed. “I _know_ I should have picked up. Should have gone out and pick him up from track practice anyways. But I was just . . .”

He clenched and unclenched his fists, staring down at his hands. “I was so angry. I rose to the bait, and now look at me? I thought . . .” He let out a sharp laugh. “I’m not good enough for your son, Mr. Winters. I knew if I went and picked him up last night, he would have looked at me and would have pitied me. The others—only Carwood knows the truth. I know that people think Dick deserves better, and well—they’re right. I’m not good for your son, Mr. Winters. He—deserves someone who would have picked him up regardless of how they looked, because he wouldn’t be with someone whose father—” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and took a deep breath. He would _not_ cry. “Dammit.”

He failed at his objective of not crying, and a crackling sob left him. He felt Richard’s hand land on his shoulder, and he said, “He doesn’t deserve to be with someone that makes him look as bad as I do.” It hurt to admit out loud, especially to an adult. The only person he’s ever confided to about this has been Ron and Dick, and neither were able to reassure him. Lewis loved Dick, but when he got emotional like this, he never believed anything that left his boyfriend’s mouth, and well . . . Ron wasn’t exactly emotionally stable to help him there.

Richard let him cry, and didn’t say anything. His hand grounded him, letting Lewis know that he could cry as long as he needed too, that Richard would stay right there as long as he needed him.

“And it’s just—its so fucking _stupid_ ,” Lewis spat. “I know it shouldn’t matter. I know that Dick doesn’t care, but, shit, I hear everything everyone says about me. I see the looks they gave us. Shit, when we walked across the stage at prom, it should have been one of the best moments of my life so far. All I saw was the looks of the parents in the crowds, the ones who know Dick and know of me. I saw their disgust, the way they leaned over to the people next to them and whispered about me.” He looked towards Richard, and swiped at his eyes, ignoring the sharp pain that pulsed through his blackeye. “What if my reputation fucks up Dick’s life?” Richard’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m being serious. It’s not like my dad isn’t—well, he’s not _somebody_ , but he ain’t _nobody_. Colleges know of him, and so they know of _me_ and—shit, what if Dick can’t get into any good colleges because of me?”

It should have been the last of his worries. It shouldn’t have even been a thing that crossed his mind, but Lewis would rather spill shit like that than anything deeper and darker inside of himself. They were all real fears and worries that Lewis had, but they weren’t the ones that he had buried so deep that would take years of therapy to dig out.

“That isn’t going to happen, Lewis,” Richard replied, his voice calm. Like all of Lewis’ fears would just . . . go away with some simple words of reassurance. “And you know that Dick doesn’t care. _No one_ who matters to Dick, or to this family, cares about any of that stuff.” Richard clenched Lewis’ shoulder tightly, a smile gracing his features. “You’re good for my boy, Lew. You’ve done a lot of good towards him, and a lot of good _for_ him.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I—” Lewis bit down on his bottom lip so harshly he tasted blood. “It doesn’t change that I’ve fucked up. He wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for me.”

“One fuckup isn’t going to end the world, Lew,” Richard said with a shake of his head. Lewis couldn’t tell if the older man was amused by that fact or not. “You need to allow yourself to fuck up and be okay with it. My boy is stronger than you think, and you need to stop keeping him out in the dark so much. He wants to be there for you, like you have been there for him _countless_ times. You got to stop protecting him from you.”

Lewis froze at that moment, and Richard took the opportunity to look at his watch. Then, he looked back at Lewis, smiled kindly at him, and patted his shoulder. “I’ve got to get back; the doctor should be coming to speak with Dick. Think about what I’ve said.”

Lewis nodded, and looked down at his empty cup of coffee. “Thank you, Mr. Winters.”

“Any time, Lew,” Richard ruffled his hair. “You’re always welcome at our house. Don’t let your own fears keep you away.”

Richard left, leaving him alone in the still quiet cafeteria. The man and his parents who had come in to eat were still there, and the man looked positively dazed, much the same feeling Lewis was going through.

Lewis ran his fingers through his hair, and shook himself. Perhaps Richard had a point—maybe he . . .

No. He needed to let Dick in. Needed to stop bottling everything up until it ate away at him and he exploded. He knew Dick would help him figure out what to do, who to speak to get him on some meds. Lewis was old enough, now.

Despite how much it hurt to admit it, he knew Richard’s words had rung true.

It took him a while to gain the courage to head back upstairs. He ducked briefly into Dick’s room, and tried not to panic when he saw that the bed was empty. A night bag was sitting on one of the chairs, indicating he hadn’t been discharged yet, but where else could he . . .

He asked a nurse for the directions to Toye and Guarnere’s room, both of which were being allowed to have visitors now. Lewis took the stairs two at a time, and all the tension left his body once he heard Dick’s soft laughter.

Gently rapping his knuckles against the door, Lewis took a deep breath before he entered Guarnere and Toye’s room. Their two classmates were laid out on the bed, clearly high as all shit, but were awake. Guarnere’s mom was sitting next to his bed, and she looked like she had aged thirty years in the last couple of hours. Babe sat on the other side of his bed, and George was currently occupying a good part of Toye’s. Ron, Dick, and Carwood occupied some of the remaining seats, with the last two’s respective parents milling amongst them.

Lewis’ gaze drifted downwards, body tensing as he realized both of their right legs ended somewhere along the knee.

Guarnere grinned wolfishly at him. “Not a bad look now, eh, Nix?” Guarnere asked, snapping Lewis out of his throat. Guarnere looked moderately more awake than Toye, but from the looks of it, he hadn’t had as much taken off as Toye did.

“Not bad at all,” Lewis forced out, glad his voice managed to keep even and not show any of his fears. “All the dames are gonna be falling all over ya now at school.”

Guarnere laughed, not seeming to notice the way Babe tensed at the comment. “You act like they weren’t before!” Lewis’ eyes traveled to Guarnere’s mom, gauging her reaction. Normally, she would have batted at him and told him to knock it off, that he knew better. Now, she just smiled at him sadly, and patted his hand.

Lewis jumped when he felt someone take his hand. He looked down to see Dick intertwining their fingers, and he hadn’t noticed Dick was in a wheelchair until now. Lewis tensed at that, but clung onto Dick nonetheless. _It’s just precaution_ , Lewis told himself, rubbing his thumb over the back of Dick’s hand.

At that moment, Richard spoke up, suggesting that the parents go outside and talk. Surprisingly, the police hadn’t been around yet, and Richard suggested they talk about their next mode of action. The mothers kissed their boy’s foreheads, and said they will be back, before they dipped into the hallway.

Dick tugged Lewis into the chair next to him. Lewis tightened his grip, and looked to Carwood. He had bandages on his face, stitches running across his right cheek, and gauze wrapped around his arm.

“Carwood over here is the luckiest bastard of the entire school, I tell you,” George said, jerking Joe out of the light doze he was falling into. “Didn’t get a concussion when he got hit with that fastball, nuts were blessed from being blown off when Muck caused that explosion in chem, and now look at him! Getting discharged later tonight and being left with that nice scar.”

Carwood flushed. “Thanks, George. What would I do without you?” Ron moved closer so their shoulders were brushing, but he didn’t take Carwood’s hand. “I don’t think this scared could be considered ‘nice’.”

George rolled his eyes and began to go off on a tangent on the merits of scars and how it was a proven fact that scars made you hotter. Joe looked at him through half-lidded eyes, and Lewis wasn’t so sure if Joe wanted to kill him, or make out with him.

. . . Probably a little bit of both.

A light tug at his sleeve drew his attention, and he turned to see Dick looking at him, concern filling those blue eyes. “Are you all right?” Dick whispered, “You kind of disappeared back there.”

Lewis’ first instinct was to lie, to tell him he was fine and that he should be worrying about getting better. But Richard’s words came to him, so instead he whispered right back, “I was terrified of losing you. Angry and disappointed in myself for not putting myself aside to be there for you. If I had just gone and gotten you last night—”

“We could have both been in that car crash, Lew.”

Lewis closed his eyes briefly, and took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said, eventually, “We could have. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m absolutely terrified of losing you, or that I think one day you’ll wake up and realize you deserve better than me.” When he reopened his eyes, he could tell Dick was trying to think of something to say, but was lost for words. “Your dad had to shake me out of that one.”

“Did he, now?” Dick asked, cocking his head.

“Yep,” Lewis clenched Dick’s hand tightly. “But we talked. I’m all right, now.”

“You are?” Dick sounded incredulous, and Lew could have laughed. He wasn’t surprised at all that Dick didn’t believe him—he wouldn’t have believed himself, either.

Lewis nodded again, and Dick smiled softly at him. “Well . . . I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Lewis said, wrapped his arms around him and tugging him close, letting his eyes flutter shut as he inhaled against his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier.”

“It’s all right, Lew. Really.”

“Later, once you get out, we need to talk,” Lewis murmured, blinking as Dick pulled back to look at him. “I promise it’s nothing serious. But your dad said I should . . . tell you about some stuff.”

Dick arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like some pretty serious stuff.”

“It isn’t. I promise.”

“Well. All right . . .”

Unable to resist, Lewis leaned forward and smacked one right on Dick’s mouth. He was just so _glad_ , so grateful that Dick was okay and this guilt that had been building up inside of him was starting to simmer down.

“. . . Hey! I thought _I_ was supposed to be getting all the intention around here?”

Dick flushed at Bill’s and the other’s cackling. Lewis shook his head with a grin, running his fingers through Dick’s hair before he stood up. “Well, all right Bill, if you insist . . .”

He was mindful of Bill’s leg, and any other sensitive spots as he attempted to smack one on Bill’s cheeks. It got a laugh out of Carwood, Babe, and George, while Ron and Joe just looked slightly amused.

When he looked to Dick, his boyfriend’s smile had reached his eyes. Lewis was determined to not let that smile go away.

**Author's Note:**

> umm if you want to commission me you can find my information on my writblr (@demukarr) or if you want too, feel free to leave me a tip https://ko-fi.com/widowmakxrs


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